


Honor Among Exiles

by DwarvenGatorade



Series: Cracks of Valdemar [1]
Category: Valdemar Series - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, Gen, rationalfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-13 03:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21487672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DwarvenGatorade/pseuds/DwarvenGatorade
Summary: In the distant past, Leareth happens upon a once-in-his-lifetime opportunity to take over a powerful empire. There’s just one thing standing in his way: an incredibly obnoxious OC.
Series: Cracks of Valdemar [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1813504
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	Honor Among Exiles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Swimmer963](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swimmer963/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Help me bear the burdens I have yet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15189953) by [Swimmer963](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swimmer963/pseuds/Swimmer963). 

> Spoilers for AS42V through Book 3 (Help me bear the burdens I have yet).

_Five hundred years Before Vanyel..._

Leareth traced the sigils upon the cavern wall, and uttered the words of entrance he had extracted from the trusting priest. The prickly heat and sulfurous stench of the volcanic passage battered at his too-young, too-untrained mind. Leareth’s current incarn was weak of magic and will, and every moment of experience itched like wild ivy. _They had better write a ballad of my deeds after all this._

Leareth’s concentration held, and the passage opened, raw stone sliding into ground. Inside was his key to power: the statue of a mighty guardian, marking the lost altar of a forgotten god. With the body of a warrior and the head of a bulldog, the stone sculpture towered over Leareth. It was easily double his height, and with its armor, nearly as broad as it was tall.

Leareth approached, and intoned the words of reanimation. “Arise, o warrior! Arise, o beast! Arise, o monster! I will that your sleep be vexed to nightmare; I will that your spirit and stone be reunited; I will that you arise, and serve your new master!”

The room shook, steam venting from cracks in the walls. The mighty statue shuddered with the quakes, dust billowing about. The guardian’s hand twitched around the heft of its hulking warhammer. Its torso expanded with a breath. Its eyes snapped open.

“Ugh... who the fuck are you?” It’s voice was, somewhat surprisingly, that of an oaf gargling a rockslide.

“Your new master,” Leareth said, without flinching. The guardian sounded more confused than anything — a show of confidence would carry the day, he wagered.

“Haw! Haw.” It cracked its neck. “Buddy, if you ever try to enslave me again, I’ll pray a mighty prayer to all the gods for them to _fuck _you for all eternity.”

Leareth blinked. “Pascal’s Fucking,” he murmured.

“And they’d listen,” the guardian said, bending and cracking its back. “I’m the personal bodyguard of the Dead Goddexx... not some nobody like you.”

“Nobody?!” Leareth snapped a levinbolt at the fool’s face before he could stop himself. It pinged off harmlessly. Leareth grabbed a fistful of his own hair in frustration as the guardian chuckled. _Stupid, rash, ill-tempered incarn!_

“Oh child...” The guardian smiled, its huge teeth uncontained by the lines of its mouth. It leaned its warhammer against the wall behind it, lowered itself into a cross-legged sit on the floor, and pulled out a pair of wire-rim spectacles. “We have much to discuss.”

Leareth tried to steady his breathing, but — “Wait — what is a hulking supernatural brute doing with _glasses?”_

“Oh these? If a bodyguard is wearing glasses, then you know no one punched them in the face recently, right? They’re a ‘costly signal,’” the guardian added, making air quotes with its gauntletted fingers.

“I know what a costly signal is!”

“And now we have ‘common knowledge’ of that.”

Leareth let loose a scream of irritation and showered the walls with dozens of spidering shafts of electric power. The guardian flicked a pebble from its shoulder.

_Stop. Just stop. You’re here for a reason._ Indeed Leareth was. The Haighlei empire was an obscure land, nigh inaccessible to outsiders, that he had visited only once before, in a prior incarn. It was resource-rich, defensible, and there weren’t any meddling gods: a perfect staging ground for the next phase of his plans.

The Haighlei’s paganistic theocracy worshipped the sun and the moon with zealous fanaticism: when a solar eclipse passed over the capital city of Khimbata, the codes of society could be rewritten wholesale by whoever stood atop the high temple. By Leareth, if all went according to plan.

Such a coup struck him as unbelievably efficient — the next best option, conquering the frozen north, would be an unbearable slog by comparison.

Timing was the only rub. The last solar eclipse to pass over the high temple in true totality was 365 years ago; the next would be some 700 years hence. And Leareth, to his great displeasure, had shuffled back onto the mortal coil in the form of an adolescent wannabe warlock with patchy peach fuzz, scarcely sixty days before the celestial bodies were to align.

He needed the guardian on his side.

Leareth rubbed his temples, took a deep breath, and sat down across from the massive, smirking stone warrior.

“You’re deliberately infuriating.”

“I _am _part troll.”

_Trolls aren’t even _real!, Leareth stopped himself from saying. “How nice for you,” he offered instead. “Yet, you have not killed me where I stand.”

“You sit.”

“Of course, where I sit.”

“Haw!” The guardian clapped Leareth on the shoulder with one huge palm. “I’m a bodyguard. You’re no threat to the Dead Goddexx.”

Leareth let that assertion pass unremarked.

“And maybe I owe you a _little bit _for reading me that whole ‘arise, arise’ slam poem thingy. Being alive is a lot more fun than being dead, huh?”

_Indeed._ The guardian seemed more incentable, more agentic, than Leareth had first assumed. Perhaps a rational proposal, peppered with sufficient honesty and deceit, could turn it to his side where magic had not.

“Listen, my good... what should I call you?”

The guardian leaned back and pointed to an inscription on its chestplate: BRUTE.

“Listen my good Brute —“

“It’s pronounced ‘broo-TAY’.”

Leareth dug his nails into his thigh and continued. “— _Bruté_, I have come to Khimbata to institute societal reform: anti-corruption laws, regulated free markets, democratically elected officials, ranked choice voting; all of which aim, in a self-correcting manner, at the uplifting and betterment of the people and empire of Haighlei.”

The guardian stared at him, glassy-eyed. A rivulet of lava dribbled from the corner of its mouth.

_Sigh_. “I want to take over the empire.”

The guardian perked up. “Oh! Why didn’t you just say so?”

“Why indeed,” Leareth muttered. “But in order to seize the high temple during the height of the eclipse and proclaim my ascension, I need... I need...”

“Help?” the guardian offered.

“Help,” Leareth agreed, eyes downcast, seeming quite convincingly to swallow his pride.

The guardian rumbled a “hmm,” and stared off dumbly for a moment.

“You know what, buddy? Why not.”

“Really?”

The guardian nodded. “This is the empire that forgot the Dead Goddexx. And guarding this dusty old altar hasn’t done anything to remind them of gzxer. I’m thinking... we could _all _use a little change.” The guardian put out a hand to shake on it.

Warily, Leareth extended his hand as well.

The guardian _whooshed_ its hand back over its head and held up a finger. “On one condition!”

Leareth gritted his teeth. The finger which the guardian held up was not customarily associated with the number ‘1’. “Naturally.”

“_You _get to rule Haighlei. Live in the emperor’s suite! Make everyone listen to you talk about ‘instituting societal reform.’ Whatever. But _I _get to be _free.” _

At this last remark, the guardian’s voice lowered to a growl. All cheer and _bon homie_ in the guardian’s demeanor was gone. Its limbs were taut as sinew; its stare was hard as diamond.

“Free. Loosed upon the world. I would not destroy your entire empire. Merely corners of it. Warriors torn apart by flashing teeth... jungles ravaged by volcanic flame... women and children crushed beneath my maul... and you standing by, never to lift a finger to oppose me, never to breathe an order to rein me in.”

“_That,” _the guardian solemnly intoned, “is the price of my service.”

Leareth pursed his lips, and thought. _Leaving aside the monstrosity of the request..._

Without the guardian’s aid, this life would be a perfect waste. Opportunity missed, pathetic incarn doomed to a quick disposal.

With its aid... Leareth couldn’t see how he could build up an empire _properly_ with a rabid dog monster snapping his elected officials in half. Oh, he could get _something_ out of it. Use the monster as a foil, build up military strength, centralize power in his own person. Could he make such a plan work this time, without making himself into a cartoonishly evil target for every plucky young hero on Velgarth? Perhaps.

But acquiescing to such a _messy_ approach would scarcely be less stressful than conquering the Frozen North. At least the north had the virtue of being relatively unoccupied.

With the question fully considered, the decision made itself.

“Much as it pains me, I shall agree to your condition.”

In the depths of his soul, Leareth chortled a hearty guffaw of evil laughter.

Words are cheap. Honor is fake. And virtue is a lie told to little children. To make such a promise to this fool of a guardian would take only a moment. To break it, and destroy the guardian entirely once Leareth could make a blood sacrifice of whatever fraction of Haighlei proved necessary, would take scarcely more.

Leareth had spent a thousand years perfecting the art of telling an undetectable lie. A lip quiver here, a resolute breath there, an earnest stare for just so long. Child’s play. The only possible outcome was for this brute to be deceived.

“Do you swear it?!”

_What a simpleton. _“I swear it.”

The guardian burst into a smile, its tongue lolling out of its mouth. “Well then come ‘ere, buddy!”

And the guardian pulled Leareth into an exceedingly uncomfortable hug.

* * *

“Hurry!” Leareth shouted over the screams and clangs of weaponry.

“This _is _hurry!” the guardian shouted back.

The sun was over three-quarters occluded, and they were only now approaching the foot of the high temple. Their arrival had been delayed by an improbable series of farcical events, which Leareth would rather not relive.

The scene atop the temple was one of complete chaos. Battle raged on each of the thirteen broad outer steps that comprised the stair-step pyramid. Masked priests struggled with escaped convicts; militia members fought risen corpses; and bloodthirsty jungle cats clawed at glowing white wolves.

At least that much had gone according to plan.

“Belay?” The guardian asked as they reached the base of the pyramid.

“_Belay?!” _Leareth repeated in shock. “_No _we shall not belay our plan!”

The guardian gave Leareth a _look. _“The proper response is ‘belay on’.”

Leareth seamlessly transitioned his scream of frustration into a battle cry: “Belay on!”

Like a whirling, drunken hydra of stone and metal, the guardian charged up the side of the high temple. Leareth followed in its wake, blasting levinbolts at the lucky few who avoided the guardian’s mangling maul. As for those _unlucky_ enough to be disabled but not yet dead, Leareth harvested their souls to fuel his blood magic.

(“Are you _sure_ you’re alright with me using _blood magic?_” Leareth had asked earlier.

“The Dead Goddexx believes in ‘decriminizalization.’”)

Within minutes, they reached the top of the temple. Standing at the final altar were Sunwind, Emperor of Haighlei, and his lover and High Priestexx, Moonheart. They were clad in the most impressive ritual garb Leareth had ever seen: robes and hoods of cloth-of-gold and silverleaf, jewel-tone sashes embroidered with diamonds, dozens of cords and bracelets of the finest make. The Emperor wielded the shining Sword of Light; the High Priestexx bore the baleful Sceptre of Shadow.

The Emperor spoke first. “You have erred greatly, warlock, in —“

A technicolor plume of flame engulfed the two figures, who proceeded to writhe, scream, and melt into smoking puddles.

The guardian looked at Leareth, its jaw hanging open.

“Blood magic,” Leareth shrugged.

“Hardly seems like you need me then.” The guardian looked down and scuffed the ground with one foot.

“Nonsense. The limits of my energy mean that such an expenditure...”

Leareth trailed off, distracted by two sights. The first, in the visible plane, was of the impending eclipse. The temple was cast into weird shadow, utterly different from twilight. The moon covered perhaps nine tenths of the sun, all but a sliver. The time for the ritual was nigh.

The second sight, visible only to Leareth’s mage senses, revealed something even more spectacular. Deep underground, he saw the shimmering outline of a massive magical node. He probed it, and was rebuffed with a small shock. It was sealed, but only weakly.

The node was larger than he had ever encountered, larger even than the energy trove that lay beneath Lineas since the Cataclysm. At a quick estimate, this Haighleian node held power equivalent to the energy of a million souls.

_How... Ah. _In a flash, he realized. The vast node was sealed beneath the temple by a double-lock: solar and lunar bondsprites, inhabiting the same thaumaturgic location. Two valves that could only be fully opened when the sun and the moon aligned.

Thus the position of the high temple over the node. Thus the sun-and-moon paganism. Thus the ritual.

In a few moments when the eclipse reached totality, Leareth would be able to channel the power of the node into whatever feats of magic he wished. He wouldn’t have to wait to exterminate the guardian; as soon as the ritual was complete, he could do so at his pleasure.

“You there, buddy?” The guardian waved a hand in front of Leareth’s face. “You went all statue-esque for a minute.”

Leareth composed himself. “Of course. Simply lost in awe at this historical moment.” _It’s nearly time. _“Go, Bruté, defend this floor against any interlopers, and I shall enact the ritual.”

The guardian saluted. “The last command I shall ever follow.”

_Indeed._

Leareth stepped up to the altar, and cloaked himself in an illusion of grandeur. He slashed open a palm, pressed his blood into the glowing altar, and rehearsed his remarks. _People of Haighlei, the time has come for an epochal change... people of Haighlei, the _**time**_ has _**come** _for an _**epochal**_ change..._

The light drained from the world, as if snatched away by howling wind. Stars dotted the blue-black sky. The sun and moon vanished as separate entities and merged into one. A ring of diamond light shone down upon the earth.

Leareth’s eyes glimmered with a touch of wetness. _Today, Haighlei. Tomorrow, the world._

“People of Haighlei,” Leareth boomed, “the time —“

A sickening _crack_ from behind, the floor of the temple rushing forward, a slam of thunder as Leareth’s face impacted stone.

Pain. Blackness. Confusion.

_What..._

“I call _that _the ‘villain-breaker,’” the guardian said, somewhere behind Leareth, in the darkness of the pain realm. “Get it? Because you’re a villain, and I broke you! Haw haw haw!”

“_Bruté?_” Leareth said, his voice reduced to a rasping whisper. He lay splayed out on the stone, someunguessable distance away from the altar. His legs weren’t responding. His hands weren’t responding. As the once-in-a-lifetime eclipse ticked away, he lay there, paralyzed and impotent. “_Why?”_

“You lied, dude!” The guardian’s footfalls thudded closer and closer to Leareth’s head. “You were never going to let me run free. Someone like you couldn’t share power with someone like me to save your life. Literally!”

_How did this oaf... No matter! Destroy it, destroy it all!_

Leareth reached for the node beneath the high temple, reached for the vast, roiling ocean of power it contained. He might not survive channeling such a torrent of energy in his current state, but at least he would have his revenge against the _foolish _guardian and the _foolish_ Haighleians.

He grasped with his magic, connected to the node, and...

Nothing.

The node was unsealed. He touched it with his magic. He cupped the ambrosia of victory to his lips — but he could not drink.

“_Impossible!_” Leareth rage-whispered.

The guardian’s voice rumbled from just above him. “Oh, did the _widdle mortal _think he could use the war chest of the Dead Goddexx against gzher bodyguard?”

Leareth’s pain boiled over into anguish and outrage. _The gods! Why does it always have to be the gods?!_

“Gzhe’s not actually dead, you know! Common misconception, but gzhe likes it that way. Easier to sneak up and listen in on ‘internal monologues.’”

Leareth’s mind crashed back to the glassy-eyed look, the dumb stare of the guardian as they negotiated at the forgotten altar. Exactly like the unfocused gaze of Valdemaran mind-mages. _This moron was mindspeaking with a deity?_

The guardian went on. “It more like... gzhe can make it _as if_ someone is dead. Dead mages can’t use land magic, right? All it takes is a few moments of contact between the mark and one of gzher loyal servants.”

“_The fucking hug?!”_

A grinding dark chuckle, inches from his ear. “What, did you think I was just a stupid brute?”

Reality grew hazy, pain edged into numbness, thought churned into noise. _Abandon this. You’ve lost. Get out._

Leareth twisted his blood magic upon himself, and severed himself from this dying incarn. _My sincerest apologies_.

As his spirit escaped, Leareth’s perception rose beyond his former body. Light dawned in the sky as the eclipse slipped away, squandered. The guardian grunted as it hoisted its maul, and aimed it directly at the dying incarn’s head. And in that liminal space, Leareth heard one last taunt before he resumed his exile from the living:

“The Dead Goddexx says: ‘good luck conquering the North.’”

Then, darkness.

* * *

_Epilogue_

_Five hundred years later..._

_The howl of icy wind. The chilling crunch of snow._

_“Leareth.”_

_“Herald Vanyel.”_

_They stared at each other across the distance, for a time; then, they approached._

_“So,” the herald asked, “what absurd, contrived moral hypothetical do you want to test me with this time?”_

_Leareth almost smiled._

_“Consider...” he began, “a traveler, stranded in a foreign country. A powerful stranger offers much-needed aid... but only in exchange for a promise which the traveler would rather not fulfill...”_

FIN


End file.
